Chapter 685: Just three days

The cavalry that had encountered the grassland enemy scout came from Shuofang Pass, about fifty strong; they killed the scout and sent someone back to Shuofang to report, while the others pressed on to further determine the enemy's situation. After traveling only an hour, they were completely surrounded by the Xiongnu vanguard that had lain in ambush, the canyon mouth seized—by the time they heard the cavalry's movement, retreat was already too late.

It turned out another scout had witnessed their killing in the early morning and had already fled back to alert the main force trailing behind.

The leader was a commander of ten thousand cavalry, who brought nearly ten thousand elite horsemen to encircle them in the canyon.

"Look at this equipment—could they be the border troops of the Northern Frontier?"

The patrol's company commander, a veteran from Yumen Pass, took one look at their clothing and weapons and knew they were Xiongnu.

"Are the Xiongnu here to congratulate His Majesty on his accession? Aren't they a bit late?!"

That commander of ten thousand cavalry laughed loudly, raised his hand, and behind him over a thousand bows were readied.

"No more talk—you can't escape. But I can point you to a clear path so your brothers can survive! This time the various tribes of the grasslands have mustered a force of two hundred thousand; judging by your position, you must be from Shuofang Pass? Two hundred thousand grassland iron cavalry—relying on Shuofang Pass alone you can't stop them! Who doesn't know that the elite Xuanjia cavalry of the Northern Frontier are all stationed in Youzhou, and now I hear the Northern Frontier King has sent his crack troops to Chang'an? Why don't you go back and say hello to General Li, and we'll call off this fight? The grasslands have been hit by a cold snap; we can't survive either. When people can't survive, they fight desperately—something the border troops know best. Just pretend Shuofang Pass never saw us; let us enter Yunzhong Commandery for three days, and once the time is up we'll withdraw at once!"

"That way, Chang'an won't find out—and even if it does, it'll be months later. Shuofang Pass will be unaware, and will also escape blame for failing to repel the enemy."

That Xiongnu had spouted a basketful of nonsense, but the company commander could tell he meant it: these northern barbarians wanted to raid Yunzhong Commandery for three days!

Within the patrol, someone immediately shouted, "Pipe dream!"

The veteran company commander turned and told him to shut up: "Those northern barbarians are indeed crafty, still playing mind games with someone! Do you think we could survive just by pretending we didn't see them? If you let us go now, I'll believe you. The trip from here to Shuofang Pass takes twice as long as to Yunzhong Commandery—letting us go won't affect your plans at all!"

The Xiongnu aren't stupid either; naturally they'd first detain these few dozen people, perhaps later exchange them for something.

The veteran company commander looked again at his comrades; the sliver of hope was gone, replaced only by the grim resolve of a desperate last stand.

He whispered: "If we stay, there's only one outcome—death. In a moment we'll break out together to the southeast; flee as fast as you can. Once out, half will go to Yunzhong Commandery to report, half will return to the pass to inform the general. Then I'll cover the rear!"

Lao Zhao!

Company commander……

"Shut up! No more talk—with this fine armor, everyone has a chance to escape. Even if we don't get away, if they head south His Majesty won't let them off, and we'll be able to avenge ourselves soon!"

The veteran company commander gripped his sword hilt until his knuckles whitened. He took one last look at his comrades who had patrolled with him all the way from Shuofang; he drank in their anger and resentment.

"Listen to my command." His voice was lowered to a hoarse whisper, as if scraped from his throat.

The Xiongnu had formed a semicircle; several chieftain-types and the commander of ten thousand cavalry were conferring in low voices, occasionally pointing at them. Horses snorted in the snow, white mist puffing and dispersing. Wind blew from the north, driving stinging snowflakes into their faces.

"Three."

He loosened his shoulders, letting the armor plates shift.

"Two."

The old wound in his leg began to throb again, and he clenched his teeth.

"One!"

Blade light burst forth.

He didn't shout "Charge!"; he shouted—"Make it back alive!"

The first slash cleaved the nearest Xiongnu soldier—he didn't even have time to draw his sword. The company commander's armor flashed cold in the sunlight; he cut a path, and his brothers behind him hardly hesitated, dozens bursting forth together as blades, blood, and cries tangled into one.

The Xiongnu certainly hadn't expected it—dozens of men trapped in the middle, surrounded on all sides by bows and blades, yet they actually dared to attack.

"Southeast! Run!" Old Zhao yelled hoarsely from behind, deflecting a cold arrow with a blow; the overwhelming numerical disadvantage left them floundering, two arrows striking his armor and bouncing off with dull clinks—thankfully none pierced through.

The thunder of hooves, angry shouts, and muffled Xiongnu war horns rang out, more and more horses' hooves pounding in from the flanks to encircle them. Old Zhao sliced off the foreleg of a Xiongnu warhorse; its rider tumbled to the ground and was finished off by a comrade's blade.

At last his brothers were running ahead of him—three meters, five meters…

An arrow flew from his rear right, striking true into the hind leg of his warhorse; the head sank in, the horse staggered, and he fell to the ground with a groan. Before he could scramble up, a Xiongnu warhorse stepped on his belly.

Old Zhao swallowed his cry, fearing the brothers who had fled ahead would turn back.

Then a second horse stepped on his ankle; he closed his eyes, opened them again, and gazed toward Shuofang—there lay a mighty pass, a general, and countless soldiers far more skilled than he.

Wind swept across the wasteland; his vision blurred, unable to tell how many times his immobile body had been trampled.

In the distance, the muffled thunder of hooves could be heard—familiar, like the rumble of thunder rolling along the ground.